INAUGURAL OFFICIALS have announced that invitations to the entertainment galas and balls at this January's festivities will be allocated to the states in proportion to the number of votes they gave President Reagan.
There was a time when this would have been a social disaster for Washington, D.C., and Minnesota, the only places that didn't vote for Mr. Reagan. Washington would have sobbed quietly in its room, while Texas was trying on gowns at Neiman-Marcus and Montana was renting a tux. When asked what it would be wearing to the ball, Washington would make up excuses about "having an awful lot of work to catch up on at home" that night. Minnesota would say it had to visit a sick aunt in Canada.
With the coming of the videocassette recorder, however, both can have their own fine little time, and in fact they will. Washington will be going over to Minnesota's place for a nouveau Beaujolais party and a viewing of "Casablanca" on the night of the Inaugural balls. Both of them will get a little teary- eyed as Bogart says goodbye to Bergman, and Minnesota will remark, "Well, I think it's a great movie even if the critics don't."
Then they will go out for a walk in the cold air to clear their heads, and Washington, inspired by the Beaujolais and the final scene of the movie, will do a loud imitation of a piston-engine airplane. South Dakota, home early from the ball, will throw open a window and shout for them to pipe down. Minnesota and Washington will reply by defiantly singing "La Marseillaise" at the top of their lungs. South Dakota will slam shut its window, muttering, "Damn crazy fools."
When Washington's Volvo won't start, Minnesota will give it a jump start with its Volvo.
"Just goes to show you don't have to have a ballroom full of stuffed shirts and a ton of caviar to have a good time," Minnesota will say, and Washington will reply, starting to back out of the driveway, "Yeah, who needs 'em? I would kind of like to go to one of those balls some day, though -- just out of curiosity, of course."
On the way home, Washington will be nearly run off the road by California, driving home at 120 miles an hour in its Maserati, and will mutter, as it looks in its mirror at the rapidly receding tail-lights, "Damn crazy fools."